A Taste of Home
by G01den Unicorn 11
Summary: Five years after the events of Twilight Princess, Link and Ilia have settled down to a normal lifestyle. But one stormy evening an unexpected visitor disrupts their precarious balance. Oneshot. Contains non-explicit nudity.


Cover art by shorty-antics-27 of DevianArt. You can find a link to her page on my profile.

* * *

_Habit is heaven's balm, God's substitute for happiness _

_- Aleksandr Pushkin_

Within one of the modest wooden houses of the forest village of Ordon, a young woman stands at a counter. Her dirty blond hair, once snipped short and pulled into a dainty ponytail at the nape of her neck, now hangs to just below her shoulders. Ilia's somber green eyes gaze down at her hands, mechanically chopping a carrot. When the vegetable is sliced, she pushes the orange circles to the side and reaches for the next one. Her lips are parted slightly. At times they twitch, as if to release a word, but her only sound is the steady _chop-chop-chop_ of her knife.

Beside her, her husband cleans a hare. While she is steady and demure, Link would better be described as feral. It is hidden, at first. A casual visitor might mistake his deft knifework for the same vacant mechanization of his wife. But the details give it away: the narrowing of his eyes, the slight tremor of the hand clutching the carcass.

When he finishes, he wipes his bloody hands on his leather apron and moves closer to his wife, now peeling a potato. He rests his crusty hands on her shoulders. His thumbs slowly circle the tender flesh below her neck, where he knows she likes to be massaged.

Her hands stop at his touch. The knife drops to the counter. For a tense moment she stays there, hands outstretched over tonight's dinner. Then she sighs. Her shoulders unclench, and she lays a hand on her husband's. The other drops to her stomach, massaging the slight bulge.

A rap at the door interrupts them. Link's head whips around toward the disturbance. After crossing the room, he opens the door.

He gasps at the slender figure before him. A brown traveling cloak wraps tightly about her. It obscures all but a pair of blue eyes and a portion of the marble-white skin that surrounds them. Even so, there is no mistaking the princess of Hyrule.

"There's a storm in the air," Ilia says as she works. "Best not linger."

Link remains frozen at the door. Zelda pulls down her hood, revealing an elegant braid of vibrant brown hair and thin pink lips that curve up in a passing imitation of a smile.

"I have ridden long today. Might I come in?"

Link stumbles backward, trying to blurt out a welcome, step out of her way, and bow to her all at once. The princess places a gloved hand on his forearm.

"I tire of constant obeisance."

Ilia finally looks up, all her vegetables cut to size. She lets out a gasp.

"Link, is that... ?"

"An old friend," he says, closing the door behind the princess and leading her to the small round table in the center of the house's single room. "Zelda, this is my wife, Illia."

Zelda sits. Link returns to his wife's side, grabbing the hare to cut it into soup-sized chunks.

"We'll have dinner ready in half an hour or so, if you want to join us."

The room fades to silence, punctuated by the occasional thud of Link's knife. Zelda sits primly at the table, staring into the fireplace in which a black cauldron hangs. Her posture is impeccable, almost rigid, but she wears it naturally. As if slouching were something that had not ever occurred to her.

Ilia clutches her husband's right arm.

"Is that _the_ Zelda? The princess?" she whispers into his ear.

Link nods, cutting away a thin strip of fat and flicking it to the side.

"What... Why is she here? How does she know you? Link, what did you do?"

For a moment, he continues cutting in silence. Once the flank is diced, he scrapes the meat out of the way and flips the hare over for the other side.

"More than I can tell," he says.

She does not release his arm, but she says no more. Her gaze flickers between the animal and Link's face as he continues to cut. When he finishes, he lays down the knife, gently pries away his wife's hands, and dumps the meat into the cauldron.

"So what brings a princess this far from the castle?" he says, taking a seat beside the hearth.

"It has been five years, this day. I thought it something we ought to share."

Link says nothing to this. His eyes lower. Then, slowly, he nods.

"You surprised me at the door," she says. "I have grown used to seeing you in green."

"That is the color of the Hero."

A drawer slams shut. Zelda and Link turn to see Ilia standing at the counter, facing away.

"I... I think I shall go feed Epona." She hurries out the door, not meeting their eyes.

Zelda raises her eyebrows as Link sags back in his chair.

"She has been tending to our horse a lot lately," he explains in response to the unspoken question. "I had thought she would stop when..." His voice trails off, and Zelda nods in understanding.

He stands and begins stirring vegetables into the soup. The cauldron hisses and bubbles as it fills with celery, lentils, chunks of potato, and carrots.

"You are a musician?" Zelda prompts, when he is done.

Link turns to see her staring at the small lute that rests in the corner, beside a crude fishing rod and a set of reins.

"Something to pass the time. I am hardly any good."

"Even so, I would hear you."

"You flatter me, Zelda." A smile plays upon his face as he stirs the soup a few times more. He rests the large wooden spoon on the rim, picks up the instrument, and adjusts his chair so he sits facing Zelda.

"It has been..." As his fingers move silently upon the strings, it seems as if he would leave the thought unfinished. But he resumes as he begins twisting it into tune. "It has been some time since I last played."

At last it is ready. He raises his eyes. Though they gaze in Zelda's direction, he is not looking at her.

The man picks out a slow arpeggio. It is a simple thing, hardly a melody at all. He shifts, briefly, to a related key, then returns to the sorrowful one with which he began.

He shifts his hand, and three notes cry out, counter to the rising harmony that still persists. He grimaces as the gut strings dig into his uncalloused fingers, but the melody continues unbroken. It has not the flamboyant ornamentation she is used to. It does not speed up, nor does it vary. Even so, the music fulfills its purpose. The simple tune fills the house, even to the very heart of its occupants.

When at last it ends, the spell continues. Link sits, right hand quivering above the strings. His eyes refocus on the woman before him. Her eyelids flutter open, she inhales, and the silence shatters.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Link says, returning the lute to its corner.

"As I was listening..." She hesitates, glancing in his direction, but he does not seem to notice. His back is turned to her as he stirs the soup. "I thought it sang of her."

"So it does."

He crosses the room and pulls a stoppered glass bottle with a narrow neck from a cupboard. "A drink?"

Zelda nods. He pours the peach wine into a flagon. Their fingers brush as he hands it to her. As they touch, he can still recall that moment five years ago, hands clasped as they stood in a field of light...

And then it is gone. He pours some wine for himself and lets the sweet fire wash through him.

The two settle into an uneasy silence. Several times Link starts, as if to say something, but then he closes his eyes, shifts in his chair, and raises his mug to his mouth. Not even the princess can refrain from fidgeting. Her eyes wander many times throughout the small home, taking in the quaint wooden tools, the small piles of clutter, the simple carvings on the walls. Her hand fiddles with her pink dress. She gathers it up until the hem rises just above her ankle, then lets it fall back to the immaculate floor.

At last Link determines that the soup is finished. The pervasive restlessness lifts as he ladles it into three bowls, setting the extra aside for Ilia.

Zelda and Link settle down across from each other at the small center table. While they stir at the soup, waiting for it to cool, Zelda finally speaks.

"I am to be wed. Some noble from an outer kingdom." She sighs. "I suppose it had to happen some day. No one you would recognize, I'm sure."

"Is he... ?"

"He is necessary," Zelda says firmly. Then her face grows wistful. "You know, growing up I was always convinced some great hero would come whisk me away and make me his bride," she says, her eyes half-lidded.

"So fanciful, Zelda?" Link says.

It is a minute before she realizes he is playing with her. When she does, she rolls her eyes to the ceiling and grins.

"Would you do it again, if you had a choice?" she asks suddenly. She sets her empty mug on the table and levels her eyes at the man sitting across from her.

He looks down at the soup, stirring it idly. In the stillness, rain begins to spatter down on the roof. "Would you?"

"I asked first." A smile comes to her face as she responds with the childish rejoinder. Then her eyebrows settle into a furrow. "Besides, I had little choice. I reigned at the center of a kingdom under assault. I would have been thrust into the war whether I wished to or not. I-"

"You _died_," Link cuts in. "I risked my life. Many even lost theirs in the fight. But you alone sacrificed it." He leans in on his elbows, fists clenched tight. "You did not have to give up your soul to Midna. How many others could have done so? How many would even have considered it?"

"You, I would think."

His eyes close. Then his shoulders start trembling in a silent chuckle. He leans back in his chair, letting the laughter pour forth. When he is spent, he shakes his head as if to clear it.

"Did I say something amusing?" Zelda asks.

Link ignores her, refilling his mug. Lightning flickers, and the low rumbling of distant thunder washes through the room.

"I felt alive," he says. "I remember being in the middle of Hyrule Field. We had run out of food. I had to sop up the morning dew with a spare rag just so I'd have enough to drink. And then, as I'm wringing the last of it into a bottle, Midna says _'What the hell are you grinning about this time?'_ And..." he makes a vague, sweeping gesture with his arms. "I just felt alive, is all."

The soup has cooled some. Zelda spoons a bit into her mouth. The hare is gamier than she is used to, but it warms and satisfies her all the same.

"She was certainly a unique character," she says. "When first I met her, I feared to trust her with even the simplest of tasks. I have never been happier to be so wrong."

"I hated her, at first," Link replies. "She was controlling me, keeping me from finding my friends." He lays his spoon down, his meal still uneaten. "I never apologized for that."

"Do you honestly think she'd accept it?"

Link snorts. "Probably not."

"Let us have a toast to Midna then." Zelda refills her mug and raises it high. "A truer friend, no one could ever hope for."

As they drink, the rain increases to a torrential downpour. It obscures the glass windows, reducing the image of the outside world to a gray blur. A whipcrack of thunder deafens them.

"That sounds like my cue to depart," Zelda says. As she stands, she staggers forward, catching herself on the table. "Oh," she exclaims.

"Not good weather for traveling. Especially after wine." Link says. He stands more slowly. He is somewhat off balance, but it is the same sort of disorientation that comes from riding for a full day. He handles it well, though he is careful to stay within arm's reach of the table. "My old house is vacant; stay until morning."

She hesitates, but soon assents.

Two guards, clad in steel plate that bears the royal crest, meet them when they exit the house. Though the rain hammers down upon them, they stand stiff as marble, as if the rain were not even there.

"I will be staying in Ordon until the storm passes," Zelda says. The guard on the left bows from the shoulders and strikes his breastplate twice with a mailed fist. Two more guards come running from around the corner. As they mutter orders to each other, Link leads Zelda toward the edge of the village, to the single massive tree that once served as his house.

"We had to move when she got pregnant," Link explains. "The ladder, it would have been difficult. No one else around to want it yet."

By the time they reach the house, they are soaked through. Their clothing sticks to them. Zelda hugs herself, rubbing warmth back into her arms. Without thinking, Link guides her with an arm around her back. His other arm clenches close to his side.

"After you," he says. He puts extra force into his voice, that it might carry over the rain.

Zelda blushes, giggles, putting a gloved hand in front of her mouth. It is odd to see it in the normally stoic warrior princess. Odd too is the pink flush in her cheeks.

"Did I not know you better," she says carefully, "I would think you were trying to glance up my dress."

"If you fall, I can catch you." The corner of his mouth twitches upward, but that is the only reaction he betrays.

After an age of careful climbing, they make it to the top without incident. Once inside, Link begins fumbling with some kindling, stacked neatly by the hearth.

"I thought you had some semblance of fire magic," Zelda says.

"I prefer not to use it."

It is not long before he has a fire blazing. He grabs a burning stick to carry the flame to the candles scattered about the room.

"I'm afraid I'm a bit short on dresses, but feel free to take whatever clothing you find if you want something dry in the morning."

"What, a princess in a tunic?" Zelda snorts. "That would hardly be proper."

"I believe we left propriety behind some time ago," Link says, turning to the door. "Good night Zelda. I think I should go find my wife."

Outside, Link stares over the edge. An urge that he has not felt in years wells up within him. It's a stupid idea. He is far too old. But would it ever feel good to have that spark again.

With a shrug, he plants a gloved hand on the railing and vaults over. For a brief, thrilling second, the air whistles past him, and he is once more barreling across Hyrule Field. Then it ends. He means to fall into a roll as he had done many times before, but the grass is wet. His feet slip. He lands hard on his back, driving the wind from him.

It is some minutes before he regains his feet, but when he does, he is chuckling. His boyish grin stays on his face as he makes his way back, to the small stable outside his new house.

His grin fades as he enters. Ilia sits huddled in a corner, hair damp from the rain blowing in. She glances up at him with red, tear-stained eyes. Link hesitates. Then, with nothing else to do, he crosses and sits beside her. His hand comes up, wavers, and eventually wraps around her shoulders, pulling her close. She does not fight it, but neither does she lean in as she once did.

"I don't... we still don't know anything," she says, staring straight ahead. "We knew you were out doing something important, but then... and the princess... and-" Her voice breaks in a sob. "And Rusl won't even talk, because he says it's your right to keep silent, but I don't even think he knows."

"An arcane darkness threatened to consume Hyrule once more. I stopped it. I, and a handful of others."

"That's not an explanation. Link, what happened to you? You were so happy before, so free, and then..."

"That happy and free man would not have saved Hyrule."

"But it's over now." She reaches up, turns his face to look at her. "Hyrule doesn't need you anymore. You won. You can come back. It is over."

"It will never be over. I returned my sword, I burned my tunic, but it doesn't stop. The relic of the goddesses burns still upon my hand. It yearns, begs for use."

He lets his back fall against the wall. His jaw works silently back and forth as his eyes lose themselves in the dark rafters above.

"When I sleep, when I even close my eyes…" he starts. "I can't leave it alone. It's just where I belong," he says, gesturing at the door.

Ilia is still staring at him. He closes his eyes, and in a moment his face regains the mask he has learned to wear so perfectly.

"We ought to go inside before you catch cold."

Ilia sighs and nods. Link helps her to her feet, and they return to their dry house with its blazing fireplace. They strip off their wet clothes in silence. Link hangs his shirt to drip dry by the door and places his boots before the fire. He stays there a moment, allowing the gentle warmth to work its way back into his skin.

"Link, do you love me?"

He turns, startled. Ilia sits naked upon the bed, staring at her feet.

"Of course-"

She cuts him off with her hand.

"Don't. Think about it. I want the truth. I am strong enough for that, at least."

Link nods. He stares back at the flames, losing himself in their graceful flicker. He stands, pacing a few times about the room. Finally, he sits down next to Ilia. As a matter of habit, his hand finds hers, and he plays his thumb over it.

"I care for you," he says at last. "I charged into the Twilight to save you, and would do so again. Your death would grieve me. Your happiness pleases me. But I do not think I could love you. Not anymore."

She nods, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I didn't think so. There is another, isn't there? Some girl you met... out there."

"I would never be unfaithful to you."

"But there is another?"

He nods.

"Tell me about her."

"She was... a foreign princess. Her quest to save Hyrule brought her to the verge of death. Only Zelda was able to save her, and at far too dear a cost."

"And where is she now, this princess of yours?" Her voice is oddly blank. It sounds as if she is talking across a great a distance. Link almost winces to hear it.

"Sealed herself away for the sake of our land."

"Oh," is all Ilia says in response. "Thank you. For being honest."

They sit there for some time. Eventually, she leans in, resting her head on his shoulder. Her cheek is warm, and soft, and the wisp of breath seems to tickle him inside.

"I don't think I love you either," she says. "Not who you are now. But I suppose that doesn't mean I can't be happy with you."

"Don't suppose we have much choice, anyway." He kisses her hair gently. "Not like the stories, is it?"

She shakes her head against his shoulder.

"C'mon. Let's get to sleep," he says. They crawl beneath the sheets and keep each other warm as the storm outside bellows.

* * *

A rap at the door wakes them from their slumber. The morning sun streams in, as if the storm of last night had not happened. Outside, Link knows, it would be different. There would be fallen trees to clean up, perhaps some leakage in the lower houses in the village. But for now, the illusion persists.

"A moment!" Link calls. He and his wife struggle into a dry set of clothes, and Link goes to the door. Once more, Zelda stands outside. Ilia moves to Link's side and puts on her sweetest smile.

"It is time for me to leave. Thank you for your hospitality," Zelda says.

"You are welcome to it at any time," Link says. Beside him, Ilia nods in agreement.

"My wedding and coronation falls on the sixth of May. You would honor me with your presence," Zelda says, smiling at Link and Ilia both.

"I suppose I will find a way to attend, then."

"Well then, until next time." Zelda turns and walks down the path, followed by her retinue of guards. Link stays where he is, gazing out at her, at the country that lies beyond.

"Until next time," he whispers.


End file.
